The time I spent my Friday at the DMV

Everyone knows the DMV is the most revolting place in the world. Seriously. It’s worse than The Doctor’s. It’s worse than traveling. In South Carolina, you only have 90 days to get your SC driver’s license after you move to the state until they start hunting you down and threatening you with jail time. And since I live with a lawman, I kind of have to follow the rules.

Old license. I liked that picture.

So Friday, I finally decided to haul my lazy butt to the DMV. I checked online to see what kind of documents I’d need in order to get approved – I also figured it’d spare me any more unnecessary grief and anguish. Because experiencing at least one homicidal moment of rage is unavoidable at the DMV, and not having the papers you need only magnifies it.

I couldn’t find my proof of social security number. Fortunately Aiken has a social security office, and it’s literally two miles away from our house ON THE WAY to the DMV. Hooray! So far, so good.

I get to the SSO, take a number, and sit down to start filling out the form to request a replacement social security card. I didn’t even finish filling in my address before my number was called. I told the man I needed proof of my social security number to take to the DMV and he was like OKAY WHATEVER YOU DESIRE, PRINCESS!

He didn’t even make me fill out the whole form! He gave me my temporary SSN card and ordered me a new one. Then he offered to give me a million dollars and put me up in a sweet condo on Ischia. I politely declined. I love my Feef.

Bing bang boom I was outta there! SUHWEET! I was hoping my DMV experience would be equally as delightful. How painfully optimistic of me.

I drove to the Aiken DMV on the other side of town. The parking lot was suspiciously empty, but I’m a glass half full type of person. I just thought there was a lull in business. Merrrrrr….wrong. I walked in right behind an obnoxiously stereotypical hipster with one too many piercings for me to avoid passing judgement. We were greeted (read: yelled at) immediately, and presented with signs (printed from a computer) that read “COMPUTERS DOWN. NO TRANSACTIONS. NONE.” They were kind enough to redirect us to the North Augusta office (a convenient 30 minute jaunt down the road).

I contemplated surrender, but opted to practice perseverance. If I quit now, I’ll be a quitter forever! So, to North Augusta I drove. And when I pulled into the parking lot, the obnoxious hipster from Aiken was pulling out. I should have taken it as a sign. If the hipster can’t even stay long enough to mock the common folk, how on earth am I going to make it?

And this is what I was met with –

OMFGsh are you serious. See how the line is out the door to check in? Yep, I waited in that. I was so happy that my paperwork was all good to go (the check in lady told me so!), because I was NOT about to turn around to go home and get something else. They had THREE people working behind the counter for this volume of customers…UN-BUH-LEEEEEE-VABLE.

I waited. I texted my mom and the Feef in an effort to stifle my desolation.
And then they announced that the Aiken DMV’s computers were back up.

…

I imagined what would have happened had I been carrying a gun in my purse. You’d be reading about me in the newspaper instead of on my blog. So I made the executive decision to say F THAT to the North Augusta DMV and drove back to Aiken. If everyone is at the N. Augusta DMV, then surely the Aiken one will be less crowded…right?

MERRRRRR….wrong again.

I guess it was technically less crowded, but it’s a smaller office, so even with fewer people it seemed impossible for me to EVER get my new license. Then I had my second moment of homicidal rage. The dragonlady at the check in desk said my proof of address wasn’t acceptable.

…

“WHAT? THEY SAID IT WAS FINE AT THE NORTH AUGUSTA OFFICE…”
“Well……….I don’t think they’re going to take it. You’re more than welcome to try.” (AKA…I don’t care if you sit in there for an hour only to find out that you don’t have the right paper work. It’s not my problem. They give me free donuts to be here and ACT like a real employee.)

I decided to chance it. She gave me my number ticket. D317. I took a seat. I called the Feef (who was on his way to lunch with some of his sheriffy friends) and asked him to swing by the house and bring me some more mail that might prove my address, just in case.

And then I waited. They called number after number. E223. E224. B415. B416. etc. They never called a D number. I was starting to think the dragonlady had played a cruel trick on me and was on the verge of walking back to the front door to rip out her weave. But then they called me.

And what do you know, the clerk didn’t want to accept my proof of address! THANK GOODNESS THEY HAVE THIS SIGN UP-

WTF? Those DMV people think they’re sooooo clever. HOW DARE YOU.

I stared at her in disbelief for a few seconds. “BUT THEY SAID THEY’D ACCEPT IT AT THE NORTH AUGSUTA OFFICE WHAT KIND OF SHOW ARE YOU RUNNING HERE????”
“Sorry ma’am. This is your health insurance…”
“Yes. It is. It’s an official piece of mail from a real life insurance company proving that I do, in fact, live in Aiken.”
“Maybe if it was your car insurance.”
–Blank stare–

I started digging through my purse and managed to find a pay stub with my address on it. I cautiously handed it over to her. Because apparently my passport, old Florida driver’s license, temporary social security card and car registration is NOT ENOUGH to get a license in South Carolina.
It worked. So I called Mike and told him not to bother. He’d already missed lunch with THA BOYS, and promised me a swift kick in the Va-jay-jay later on for making him drive all the way to the house for no reason. So I told him I loved him and to have a good afternoon.

Anyway, I got my license more than TWO HOURS after I’d set out to do so. And you can see the day’s pain written all over my face.